Intrigue
by Yuko Hakubi
Summary: A startling traditionalist encounters the strange and ethereal in the California town of Shinomori while inspecting it for his grandfather. A fortuneteller brings out something he hasn't felt in a long time. The feeling of intrigue. Written for Kaibutsu
1. Chapter 1

Intrigue

By Hakubi

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but CLAMP holds a large portion of my money! They broke me, dammit!

Written for Kigern, who requested I write a chaptered fic with the Yuko/Doumeki pairing. I hope she likes it!

Sunrise on San Francisco…was not at all what it was cracked up to be, in the mind of Doumeki Shizuka. Not that the sunrises in any city were comparable to those he'd viewed from his bedroom in Kyoto. Kyoto was clean and spiritual, while this place was just plain noisy. He'd already heard six or seven carriages come thundering past the hotel, and it was barely morning. He rolled his head once towards the right, and waited for the satisfying pop of bone and muscle before turning his head the other way. Never again would he sleep in a Western-style bed when he had the option of sleeping on a futon.

Stupid feather mattresses.

A painted porcelain bowl waited for him on the low wooden table, filled with warm water. The lacquered wood of the table was supposed to remind him of home, he supposed. He padded over, and splashed his face once. Droplets caught hold in his dark hair, and glided down his bare neck and shoulders before soaking into the familiar fabric of his faded blue yukata. He would never understand, for the life of him, why anyone would ever want to live in a city like San Francisco. Such a dirty, atheistic place, filled with strange American ideals and a smell he had long since associated with pure idiocy. The sooner he could return home, to the Doumeki family shrine, the better. Damn all his grandfather's developments to hell if it meant staying away from home too long.

"Hope she's not pining over me."

Himawari-chan, his cousin. Always fretting. Her last letter had contained some very redundant questions that he should have been used to by now. Was he getting enough to eat in America? Were his suits warm enough? Were their grandfather's employees treating him with the respect that he deserved? If not, she would immediately send a letter to their grandfather, Doumeki Kimitoshi, to have them reprimanded or removed from their positions.

The rows of tiny kanji had gone on and on, on both sides of the paper, until the count had reached six. She had probably made herself sick with worrying, and Doumeki had a feeling that he would soon be receiving a letter from his aunt Kamio, to scold him for making poor, fragile little Himawari-chan worry so. Either that, or her overprotective husband, Kudou-san, would send various letters warning him not to get too close to his cousin, or there would be dire consequences. The man failed to remember that only two years earlier, Himawari's father, Kunogi Keisuke, had done the same thing. But he wasn't in Japan now, and he couldn't begin to think of his family until he was boarding a ship for home. He was at his closet now, feeling over the lapels of various suit jackets…until he came across a sprig of sakura threaded through one of the buttonholes, that is.

It was fresh, smelling sweetly of spring and home.

But only very vaguely sweet and homey. The acrid scent of America clung to it in a sick perfume. One of the maids must have placed it there yesterday while Doumeki had been out on his 'grand tour' of San Francisco with his grandfather's aide, Makiko-san. Tugging very gently at the stem, he lay it flat in his palm; it was very pretty, but an insult to the sakura trees in their serene groves in his home. Fingers rushed in, and quickly, Doumeki crushed the fragile bloom, just to feel the liquid flowing out into his palm and fingers. He issued a soft snort, and dropped the cruelly murdered sakura sprig on the wooden floor before extracting his suit. Black velvet, with purple lapels, and on the back of the jacket, a waving line of hand-stitched crimson butterflies following each other in a manner that suggested smoke. Butterflies courtesy of Himawari-chan and Aunt Kamio. Intrigue in the midst of a sea of neutrality, and spirituality amongst overpowering atheism.

"Doumeki-san, your carriage has arrived."

The little maid who could speak his language fluently, of his own nationality. Pretty as she was, though, her scent was rank with peasant blood and betrayal of the class system that had been demolished with the Tokugawa shogun. Were they in Kyoto, she would have never dared to call him anything but Doumeki-sama or young master, nor would she have dared to stand in the presence of a samurai's offspring. America did not make her better; only the nobility were destroyed, stripped of their political power and placed on the same level as the peasantry.

"Doumeki-san?"

He heard fingers sliding between the door and the hideously wrought door handle, and tapped one gray-stockinged foot on the floor.

"I did not give you permission to enter."

"My apologies, Doumeki-san. Makiko-san is waiting for you in the lobby, whenever you are ready."

Softly thumping heels on the Persian rug that ran the length of the hall, slightly quickened in frustration, and then she was gone. Doumeki smirked, and tied the black silk hanging from his neck into a rather poofy knot, and tucking the tails beneath the top of his purple silk vest. Pull the tiny pearl buttons into their proper places in his sleeves, and he was ready for his jacket. He smoothed out the back, and traced a finger over the outline of one of the butterflies. It would supposedly bring good luck in change, according to Kamio, if he paid his respects to their omen. Button up the front, and smooth it down, make sure no buttons are missed. Now for his top hat and gloves.

Makiko-san looked very impatient, waiting at the bottom of the grand staircase, fiddling with the black leather of his gloves.

"Ah, Doumeki-san has finally decided to appear before us. I was beginning to wonder if ever you were going to awake, young master."

"It's barely sunrise, Makiko."

"Of course. Forgive me, Doumeki-san."

Even the ground was rougher here. Or perhaps that was just the rutted dirt road that lead out to his grandfather's latest development. A small, rural village called Shinomori, filled with Japanese immigrants from Okinawa all the way up to Hokkaido. According to Makiko-san, the town was progressing quite nicely, at a rate quick enough that it could easily become a booming town filled with business. This was what Doumeki Kimitoshi had sent his grandson, Doumeki Shizuka, to determine. The jolting came to an abrupt stop, although not so much so that either of the passengers could be sent flying forward into the front of the carriage. The whinnying of horses was slightly calming. Not that he was nervous in the least bit about being in a carriage.

"Take a look, Doumeki-san. Shinomori, California. Your grandfather's latest project."

Doumeki lowered his chin to rest on the heel of his hand, and shifted his eyes around the area. It was surprisingly…homey. A traditional village, in this place? Open, door! His feet slid down from the steps, to the unusually soft bit of earth. Had Makiko-san not been present, Doumeki would have removed his shoes and walked through the grass, just to feel the reminder of the Doumeki shrine. The town followed one main street, and smoke rose from several small lean-tos hidden in crooked alleys. As far as he could see, there were no silly signs naming the little roads; there weren't any signs at all, for that matter, except for the familiar kanji leaning over a restaurant. The characters labeled the small establishment 'The best in the West!' And, of course, there was a second sign, bearing the word 'Shinomori' in kanji and English.

"You are pleased, Doumeki-san?"

He frowned at the man's overly smug expression that twisted his lips into an ugly snarl, and rudely shoved his happiness into the caged rear of his mind.

"It is…acceptable. Show me the businesses, Makiko-san. That is what I am here to judge, after all."

"Of course, Doumeki-san. It is just that I had no wish to…" Here, the man paused. "interrupt your reverie."

"…"

Doumeki removed his heavy coat, and carefully slipped the woolen garment over his left forearm. More butterflies flitted on the cuffs, golden yellow in such intricate stitching as only Himawari-chan herself could do. But then, the coat had originally been made for Kudou-san, until the doctor had deemed him to ill to leave the house. Himawari had passed it to 'Dear Shizuka-kun.' Poor, ill little Kudou-san, confined to a wheelchair and skinny as a little girl. How Kudou-san would hate this place, with its lack of Western taint, and how oblivious to 'Shizuka-kun's' affection for it. They stood before the restaurant now.

It was a dilapidated little establishment, with a frayed, fading cloth hanging in the upper half of the door. It had been blue once, he believed, or perhaps a blue-hued green. Makiko-san pushed past it with obvious disdain, evident in the manner he pushed into the building. Doumeki felt butterflies tickling his stomach, urging him to laugh at the grimace deepening the lines on Makiko's fat face. The cloth carried miniscule hints of dishes long past, and brought another aching reminder of home.

"This way, Doumeki-san."

The frown positively tore at the muscles in his mouth this time. A back table, at an unhealthy distance from the other patrons gracing the room. Most were discussing personal affairs in delightfully hushed tones, some speaking in the dialect of Osaka, and others in the Tokyo dialect. A scathing remark caught him from the corner, falling from the mouth of a woman so little and so anciently wrinkled and dark-skinned that she could have been most easily an earth spirit. She muttered something about 'damned foreigners in English, pronouncing both the 'm' and the 'n' in her word. And also, something about 'damnable nosy businessman' whilst directing a death glare in Makiko-san's general direction.

"Pardon me, madam, but have you ever visited Kyoto?"

She fixed him with a stare-the odd, untrusting stare that elders tended to direct at the younger generations.

"I hail from Kyoto. My grandson, he thought it would be a nice present to tear an old woman from her home and send her here to this hell."

"Doumeki-san!"

That his employer's grandson should speak so casually to a peasant…a penniless old grandmother who had complaints of her grandson, this was completely unacceptable.

"Learn your place, old woman!"

The wizened lady set her chapped lips in a frown, so that her face disappeared even moreso into wrinkles.

"Silence, Makiko-san. I wish to hear what she has to say."

"Do you have any idea to whom it is that you are telling to learn her place? My name is Kudou Misato!"

"Your grandson would be 1 Kudou Kazahaya, then? He mentioned something of that nature shortly before I left."

"Doumeki…you are Himawari-san's cousin."

He nodded, and directed his eyes toward the mortified Makiko. His sharp gray eyes weren't wide with fear, but so perfectly mimicking of stormy water tat he seemed as though he could summon a typhoon to destroy the parties causing his humiliation.

"Makiko-san, apologize to Kudou-sama."

Grumbles gathered in the lowest part of his throat before an apology was grudgingly regurgitated.

"Kudou-sama."

An older man now stood off to one side of Misato, shifting his weight from one foot to the other at odd intervals. He still wore his silvering hair in the traditional topknot, although the tail had grown long enough to dangle down between his shoulder blades. The traditional garments only served to increase Doumeki's respect for him, as he confused to conform to Western ideals.

"Yuko-san said that you would be coming today."

A fortune teller? He languidly raised his arm to rest on the table, as to seem more polite in the old woman's presence. However, Makiko had failed to mention a fortune teller establishing business.

"Yuko...san?"

"She said that you must visit her when you arrived, Doumeki-san. It is imperative to your destiny."

Perhaps Kudou-san had had valid reason to ship his grandmother off to America after all; she acted as though she had taken complete leave of her senses. Fortune teller indeed.

"Where is this...'Yuko-san's' shop, Kudou-sama?"

The old man stepped into the doorway, and pointed to the end of the street. Doumeki followed the line the servant's finger made, to the shadowed border of the town. A solitary grove of pine trees, with one huge tree at each of the cardinal points.

"You would not be wise to so easily dismiss Yuko-san, Doumeki-san. If you are truly as traditional as Kazahaya claims you to be, you will go to her. But please, do not tarry here; Yuko-san is rather...impatient when concerning guests."


	2. Vision 2

Vision Two

By Hakubi

Written for Kigern.

Author's notes: The second chapter of Intrigue. Yay! I have thus decided that I like the use of the word vision when referring to the numbers of each chapter, and so I will be posting the "visions" of Yuko and Doumeki. And by the way...40+ hits and only one review, from the person it was written for? Come on, people, show me just a little more love than that, I worked hard on this chapter. If this keeps up, I may just decide to send the story only to Kigern herself. This is, after all, a gift for her.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, but CLAMP holds a large portion of my money. They broke me, dammit! (Them, and Yu Watase...gyaaa!)

Definitions from last chapter/this chapter: BE WARNED! THESE DEFINITIONS MAY OR MAY NOT CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR OLDER CLAMP MANGA, SUCH AS CARDCAPTOR SAKURA. IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THEM YET, AVOID THESE DEFINITIONS.

(Avoid here.)

Sadly, I neglected to mention something when I typed the last chapter. I was in such a rush to get it posted that I forgot to mention the reference to Kudou Kazahaya. Since XXXholic is the crossover of all crossovers, I have decided to remain true to the series in that other CLAMP characters will make appearances (cameo or otherwise) at various points.

(1) Kazahaya, for those of you who have not picked up a copy of Gohou(Lawful) Drug, is one of two main characters who posess strange psychic powers. And for fear of spoiling something, I suggest that you go to your nearest comic store and buy one of the graphic novels, unless you have a severe phobia of shounen-ai (boy love).

(2) Tomoyo-san: A reference to Daidouji Tomoyo, from the CLAMP manga Card Captor Sakura/Master of the Clow. (Cardcaptors, for us Americans. English dubbutchering) Second cousin to the main character, Sakura Kinomoto. Most often paired with Eriol, even though the manga hints that she has a crush on Sakura. In the English dub, she is known as Madison Taylor.

(3) Eriol-san: A partial reincarnation of Clow Reed, who bears a striking resemblance to the original, from the Master of the Clow manga. Full name of Eriol Hiirigazawa (spelling?) One of the most popular pairings written for this fandom is Eriol/Tomoyo. In the English dub, he is known as Eli Moon.

(4) Himura-san: The second main character of Gohou Drug. It is theorized (though not proven as of yet) that he is interested in or will hook up with Kudou Kazahaya in the future. Full name Himura Rikuou. When I finish the side fic to this, _Sensations_, you'll understand the reference I've made through Doumeki's dialogue.

(5) Chu'nyan: A character that appeared in the third volume of Tsubasa Resevoir Chronicles. Even though I'm not the biggest fan of this CLAMP work, she is a respectable character. Those who have read the third volume know that I've tweaked her personality quite a bit. I do believe that she would act this way to someone that she truly respected.

(You can start reading again.)

"..." Indicates speech

-...-scene change

() Indicates beginnings and endings of dreams

Review responses will be posted at the end of the chapter, along with any obscure cultural references.

_Doumeki-san...I'm growing impatient._

The smoke is embracing Doumeki, caressing him in its toxic fumes. But he would swear that there were hands, just hidden from his eyes, doing the very same. Exploring, and making oddly squiggled patterns before him, and dimming the shimmering of the butterflies on his clothes. He is in a room, but it looms just beyond recognition, teasing him in this silver smoke.

_Doumeki-san, please come to visit! Yuko-sama wishes so very much for you to visit us!_

Children don't belong here. Children are not in the service of fortune tellers. Children are not soulless servants of she-devils.

Doumeki-san. This is the last time I shall come to _you_. _You_ must come to _me_.

The room was the same. The same as in his dream, but not teasing. The small room Misato-sama had lent to Doumeki only an hour ago, it had not changed. The futon was still folded behind its screen in the corner, with kitsune playing tag across the green silk. And the letter Kudou-san had sent to him through Misato slept on the low table, unopened. The dream had come through the window, with the smoke from the cooking fire in the kitchen.

"Impatience be damned, Yuko-san."

He pressed white fingers to the sleeve of his jacket, to trace one of the violet butterflies stitched around the button. The adrenaline slowed, and his eyes drifted towards the letter from Kudou-san. It should just sit there, and not be given the dignity of an answer. But there was the chance that it also held a letter from Himawari-chan, or Mizuko-san...his mother.

So...where was that penknife?

Shizuka-kun:

_I hope that your inspection is going well. 'Wari-chan has just discovered that she holds a wonderful talent for mothering; her sister, Tomoyo-san(2) was here just the other day, with Eriol-san(3), to show off their new son. Perhaps I should test this theory of mine-------_

He raised his head. Pervert. Himawari-chan is not just a baby factory; she's a human being with a soul.

_But you would probably accuse me of perversion, Shizuka-kun, if I go further. It is a pity that you missed Tomoyo-san, she wished to speak with you. For the most part, ignore my old grandmother. I fear she's gone senile since I've last seen her, always going on and on about this 'Yuko-san' in her letters, and what a wonderful fortune teller that she is..._

No letter from Himawari-chan, no word of or from Mizuko-san. Just Kudou-san's tireless drivel, to make it seem like he wasn't sick. Tomoyo-san's baby was no news; they'd had telegrams from Tokyo several months before, when Eriol-san had returned with them from London. Mizuko-san's silence wasn't unusual, either---she was angry with Kudou-san because he had broken her son's engagement to a wealthy girl from Hokkaido. Aki---Akino? A-something, from a family he had never before heard of. Himawari-chan was probably already pregnant, if Kudou-san hadn't allowed a letter to be shipped with his own, so he alone would have first bragging rights.

"You never really cared, Kudou-san. You only married Himawari-chan because Himura-san(4) wouldn't have you."

-...-

"Doumeki-sama."

The soft flare of a lantern outside the shoji paper door, and the blanketed tread of a female servant.

"Doumeki-sama, someone's come to fetch you to Ichihara-sama's home."

_Ichihara...sama? Who the hell is Ichihara?_

"The fortune teller...?"

"Of course."

The servant rolled the door back enough to allow herself entrance, set the lantern inside on the tatami, and crawled in herself. She was around twenty, he guessed, with dark hair and eyes to match an olive-coloured complexion. She never left her knees, and bowed low enough for her nose to touch the floor before she waited for a signal to stand. Only then was the lantern placed on the low table near his futon.

"My name is Chu'nyan(5), Doumeki-sama. Would you like me to help you in dressing before you leave?"

A proper servant, at last. He inclined his head, but then gestured for her to turn while he replaced his trousers. Apparently, she knew sounds well enough that she waited with his shirt afterwards, held gingerly at the collar so as not to wrinkle it. He turned his back to her, and she slipped his arms into the sleeves, and the tails into his trousers before she buttoned up the front. She disappeared when he started on his tie, bowing in apology because the item was foreign to her. His shoes were set outside on the wooden floor, polished and lined up neatly. Chu'nyan knelt against the other wall, tucking the hem of her kimono beneath her knees.

"You are...hungry, Doumeki-sama?"

She ventured into English, her tongue gripping clumsily at the strange syllables.

"Iie."

She bowed in apology once more, and stood.

"This way, then, Doumeki-sama. Himura-san is waiting for you outside."

-...-

Himura Rikuou was just as all Kudou-san's words had described him to be. Tall, muscular, and very handsome. His green eyes were locked in a narrow look, from scrutinizing so many people, and his lips set in a completely permanent frown. His flesh seemed to hang slackly in his frame, in the appearance of slack muscle and bad sleeping habits. His crooked stance shouldn't let anyone know of his pain, but Doumeki knew, from the projection of energy directed at him through the thin framed glasses.

"You are...a cousin of Ka--Kudou-san's wife."

A nod was all he received.

"Well, come on. I'm getting sick of Ichihara bothering me."

-...-

"Only one thing you have to remember, Doumeki. When you come up on this fence, wait. Don't go in directly; that mad woman's got a ward on that fence that will take control of your body if you touch it."

Himura stopped, and slid his glasses into the breast pocket of his dark suit.

"Two little girls--Maru and Moro, they'll lead you inside. Don't speak to her until she speaks to you, or you'll get her to chattering."

"You sound like a mother hen, Himura-san. Ichihara-san is one woman; I've come to inspect her shop for purposes of my family business."

Rikuou smirked.

"You've spent too much time fending off Kazahaya's idiocy. Trust me, she'll wear on your nerves eventually."

He turned on one foot, and left without another word. Doumeki turned his eyes towards the gate, and the wrought-iron fence. As Rikuou had previously mentioned, long slips of paper pasted to the fence told of a ward. He didn't believe in magic, but it didn't seem to matter. The mist made things eerie enough to make anyone nervous.

"Are you Doumeki-san?"

The little voice led his eyes back from the mist to the fence. Two pairs of white hands gripped the bars, and two sets of blank eyes gazed at him. Two little girls, like Rikuou had said. Two little girls, one with frizzy blue hair pulled into pigtails, and one with short-cropped pink hair. The first dressed in dark, the second in light, the yin and the yang countering one another. Both with slightly open mouths, watching him as he watched them.

"Are you Doumeki-san?"

It was the first girl who spoke, in a sweet, innocently lilting voice. The darker one, who's pigtails brushed over the ground. She was the tiny little voice. The lighter one seemed to be dumb, and fixed him with that blank stare.

"Doumeki-san."

Either that, or she would repeat the last words of her..._sister_...didn't seem to fit. An Echo, a little afterthought of what was.

"If you are Doumeki-san, you should come in! The mistress wanted to speak with you!"

"The mistress!"

They were speaking in unison now.

**"Come!"**

He stepped forward, as though he had actually touched that ward. He stepped forward, and the silver puddle didn't catch his attention until he stepped in it. Now water crawled slowly up the pantleg and his sock. The shoe was surely ruined.

"DO YOU MIND?"

His eyes journeyed downward, towards this new, masculine voice. Where his foot rested in the silver water, a white face surrounded. A white, _bespectacled_ face with blue eyes. The little girls were giggling, grinning as he retracted his foot as quickly as he dared without showing fear.

**"Doumeki-san stepped in our Watanuki!"**

Stepped in _their_ Watanuki? Surely this woman wasn't mad enough to let little girls give names to puddles...unless said puddle took shape, of course. Which this one did. The water rose up, in a column of a around two meters, with a white line running, snakeish around the outside. Slowly, it took on the form of arms, legs, torso and head, all very thin and willowy, and closely cut black hair. A pair of glasses was rubbed at with a handkerchief.

"Watch where you're stepping!"

The willowy figure was a man; an ame-warashi if he remembered spirits correctly. But this man seemed too tempermental to be such a high ranking spirit. But he was raising his right hand, with the fingers pointing towards Doumeki's face. Revenge was most obviously the intent.

"Watanuki, don't you dare!"

'Watanuki' turned, and a small gang of dark figures hovered overhead. Below them stood a slender woman, with sad eyes. She had clasped her hands to her breast, and her dark hair drifted from her shoulders over her hands. The light, flower patterned kimono made him think of a spirit. A zashiki-warashi.

"DON'T YOU DARE MAKE HER CRY!"

"But, Teruko-chan...!"

"Watanuki, please, don't! You can't be so rude to Yuko-sama's guests! Please, do it for me!"

The gold-washed silver cast its gleam in Doumeki's eyes, from the left ring fingers of both spirits' hands. Watanuki surrendered, his shoulders drooping to a comic level when he was deprived of his revenge. The dark figures, which Doumeki assumed were karasu tengu of the zashiki-warashi, continued to hover.

"HOW DARE YOU MAKE HER CRY! YOU'LL PAY!"

They swooped down to make good on their promise. But Teruko stepped in front of Watanuki, lifting her hand in a pleading gesture. The leader was looking for a way around its mistress, Doumeki could see, from within their cold little eyes. Teruko looked at them sadly.

"He didn't make me cry! Please, leave him alone!"

Doumeki felt the coiling begin in his stomach, the ticklish feeling which warned him of the escaping laugh. He couldn't stop it completely, so he snickered. Watanuki turned his head, and his shoulders hunched up. He took one step forward, and pointed an accusing finger at Doumeki. Doumeki only laughed a little more. Maru and Moro laughed as well, pointing at Watanuki's back.

"What the hell are you laughing at, you outsider!"

"Watanuki...!"

Teruko reached out to stop him, but a creak on the porch did it for her.

"Watanuki, that's enough. You shouldn't have been taking a nap outside the fence like that. Last time, Rikuou-kun stepped in you too, remember?"

Another willowy person emerged from the shadows. As well, the person was a woman, with long, dark hair tumbling around her hips. The blood red kimono hung from her shoulders to expose white skin, white flowers dotting the hem and sleeve. She was barefoot, and her violet eyes were taking in Doumeki for all that he was worth. And finally, he noticed the pipe in her hand, with a curling gray smoke.

"But Yuko-san! These humans need to learn to be more careful!"

Watanuki didn't intend to give up until he was allowed to drench Doumeki. Yuko held up a hand, snapping her fingers shut so as to show she wanted no more arguments. Watanuki's mouth closed at the exact same time. Yuko smiled, and gestured towards Teruko. Teruko waved at her karasu tengu, who left, and took hold of Watanuki's hand before pulling him away. The glare still remained fixed on him, even as Watanuki was dragged by his wife. They both filtered through the gate.

"Maru. Moro. Please, open the gate for our guest."

The laughter was gone from the little girls' faces. More than just their eyes were blank now. Their mouths, their expressions, their movements. All were blank, as they touched the fence and the lock. The darker one fingered the heavy lock, and waited for the lighter to fit the key inside. The ornate little thing, with silver wrapped around it. He waited for the little click, and then stepped up to the space. Moro took hold of his hand as he stepped over the barrier, and the smiles reappeared. Yuko's lips ventured upwards in a slightly quirky smile, and she tapped the back of her pipe against her hip as the smoke ceased.

"How ungrateful! I wasted my best pipe tobacco luring you here, and you aren't even the least bit thankful that I care about your destiny!"

She pointed her nose to the sky, and a little harumph caused the little girls to dance around him in a circle.

"**Ungrateful, un-graaaate-fuuuuul**!"

They sang, still wearing those little smiles that could come or disappear as Yuko wished. Finally, she beckoned them close, and kissed them both on the cheek. The smiles became broader, but there was still no emotion in their dark eyes. Yuko passed her pipe to Maru, and held them both to her breast for a moment.

"Now, go have Watanuki make us some tea, won't you? After all, he is our wonderful worker!"

"**Worker, worker**!"

"Now, Doumeki-san, if you would come with me..."

Out stretched the long white fingers, in a rather sultry 'come-hither' gesture, and Doumeki suddenly wondered why it felt so normal.

-...-

Watanuki glared from the door as Teruko knelt next to the low table. He did not trust Doumeki, did not like him in the least. Teruko poured tea for both Yuko and Watanuki, and then bowed. Yuko turned her head towards Watanuki. The quirky smile was again at her lips.

"What's wrong, Watanuki? Are you afraid that someone is after your precious Teruko-chan?"

Teruko blushed, and clutched the tray to her chest. She met Doumeki's eyes only briefly, before turning her gaze back to the floor. Maru and Moro chose that moment to ambush Watanuki, one jumping at his shoulders from the back, and the other lunging at his knees from the front. All three fell to the floor, with no audible thump but from Maru and Moro. Watanuki had turned himself into a silvery puddle, and slid across the floor to Teruko. There was a smaller version of his earlier theatrics, and Watanuki reappeared kneeling on the floor, on the side of Teruko that was closer to Yuko.

"Why should I be worried about this fool trying to take her? He's obviously an idiot who can't appreciate true beauty when he sees it!"

Watanuki quirked a little smile of his own, reaching over to squeeze Teruko's hand.

"Oh, darling Watanuki, I didn't realize you held me with such a high vision!"

She lashed out to pull him close. Watanuki attempted escape, crawling backwards on the tatami towards the shoji paper door. This only encouraged Yuko further, and she held him in a bone-crushing hug.

"My darling Watanuki!"

Teruko giggled, but hid it in her hand. Doumeki smirked, as if to say how much of an idiot he believed Watanuki to be. The zashiki-warashi tapped her husband on the shoulder, and seconds later the room was completely quiet. Maru and Moro were wreaking havoc, while Teruko smoothed Watanuki's ruffled feathers.

"I'm glad, Doumeki-san, for you to finally have heeded my summoning. Didn't Kudou-san tell you?"

"I am here for one thing, Yuko-san. If your 'shop' interferes with my family's business prospects in this town, we will remove you. I am here to judge that, and only that."

-...-

Review Responses:

Kigern: I'm so happy that you liked it! It was written for you, after all. I just hope you enjoyed this chapter as much!


	3. Vision 3

Intrigue-Vision Three

By Yuko Hakubi

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, but CLAMP holds a large portion of my money! They broke me, dammit!

Author's notes: Sadly, everything in reality is eating my brain. This will probably be my last update for a while. Also, our internet has been down for various reasons, so it makes it hard for me to post. I'm sorry, everyone! I've probably scared you all away now. This chapter is very rough, and I'm pleading with you, please let me know what you think. I've hit a dead end.

Review responses will now be handled through the review feature, unless you are an anonymous reader...then it will be posted here. If I get the review after the story is finished, the response will be posted in my livejournal account, at http:// yuko-hakubi .livejournal .com (Remove the spaces to get the link, obviously.)

**Anonymous Reviews:**

angelfeather: I'm glad that you like it. As for your question to the pairing...no, it won't be Doumeki/Watanuki, although that pairing _is_ adorable. It's going to be Doumeki/Yuko, because this is a gift fic for Kaibutsu. (Formerly Kigern)

-...-

"I don't think you could remove me, Doumeki-san."

Yuko picked up her cup, and sipped slowly at the green liquid. Her lips closed over the rim, tinged pink with the heat, and she swallowed.

"You surely don't expect me to believe that rubbish you told Kudou-san...?"

He eyed his own cup a bit warily before he picked it up.

"It is only the matter of whether or not you believe, Doumeki-san. If you believe something to be true, then it most likely is. If you don't believe it, then it most likely isn't true for you. And, I wouldn't worry about Watanuki trying to do you harm. He knows the punishment for taking a life, and he would never harm a living being."

Doumeki shrugged, and swallowed the last of the drink. Then he stared for a moment into Yuko's eyes. She was odd enough that he half expected her to be fully corrupted, or at least, tainted by the gaijin(1) who surrounded this area. But, she wasn't, at all. She seemed traditional, in every aspect. Softly, she set her cup down on the table, calm for the moment.

"Shall we continue with your visit?"

Doumeki fixed her with an odd look.

"The divination, Doumeki-san. Unless, of course, you've convinced yourself that I'm not worth your time?"

There was the loud crack of shattering porcelain, and it was accompanied by Teruko's alarmed little shriek. Watanuki was shouting at something, and running as fast as his feet would take him. Maru and Moro were shrieking in what Doumeki assumed to be a twisted imitation of delight.

"GET BACK HERE, YOU STUPID THING!"

_What exactly am I going to meet now...?_

The shoji paper door rolled back just a little bit, and little black paws were poking through the opening. He rolled his eyes. Now, it seemed, Watanuki was not just an average, run-of-the-mill idiot; he was an idiot who hated cats as well. He sorely hoped this to be a very odd hallucination on his part. In a few moments he would wake up in his hotel room, to the annoying maid again, and insist that he was ill. But it was not to be so. The paws pushed the door back a little further, and were followed by a tubby little body. With longish rabbitlike ears, and a round yellow disk in the middle of its forehead, the creature somewhat resembled a rabbit. Its eyes were squinted or closed, he couldn't tell which at the moment. Only a second later did Watanuki appear behind it, swooping down to grab it.

"I've got you now, stupid pest!"

His hands wrapped around the fat little stomach, squeezing just a little.

"Mokona isn't a pest! Mokona is Mokona!"

Watanuki began to shake the little creature now, holding it up to his ear every now and then. There was the soft jingling of metal every once in a while, thudding against the cushioned wall of the creature's stomach. Doumeki smirked, and felt the familiar bubbling of laughter in the lowest part of his stomach.

"What did it take, idiot?"

"You little _bastard_, you ate my ring! Give it back!"

"Sorry, Mokona can't!"

The little thing raised a paw, and grinned quite deviously at Watanuki. It was thoroughly inspecting Doumeki at the same time, however. It was obviously much sharper than it appeared at first glance.

"The _Hell_ you can't! You spit up _whole apples_ after you eat them! You _can_ spit my ring back up!"

Doumeki pulled Mokona from Watanuki's hands, holding the the odd ball of...whatever it was by its feet, less than a metre above the fresh tatami mats covering the floor. Not viciously, (but not quite gently, either) he poked 'Mokona's' stomach, and it let out a very rude burp after a few moments. With the overly large expulsion of gas came the ring in question, not harmed in the least bit.

"Not a very good spirit, are you, fool? You can't even keep a fluff ball smaller than you from swallowing a ring."

Crimson gradually crept up from beneath Watanuki's collar before he snagged what was rightfully his. The eyes became more and more narrow as the fury mounted, and it was a bit surprising when the rage was not released on the undeserving customer.

"Watanuki----"

Yuko paused, apparently for dramatic effect, or something of that nature.

"You should thank him."

"THERE'S NO CHANCE IN HELL I'LL EVER THANK A FOOL LIKE HIM!!!"

And without further words, Watanuki stormed out, though he managed to slide the shoji shut very softly behind him.

-...-

"Doumeki-san, you'll need to place your hand in here."

From nowhere, Maru and Moro produced a large, but shallow ceramic dish, with a pale violet glaze over the earthen tone beneath. Around the rim were painted several waves in varying shades of blue and gray, mimicking smoke or water, he wasn't sure which. Half expecting a joke, Doumeki slid his hand into the bottom of the dish.

"Maru."

Maru poured water into the dish from a crystalline vase, just enough so that the level was at Doumeki's second knuckle. Odd, he thought that the crystal would be tainted from all the handling it went through. Especially since it was handled numerous times by human hands. Moro handed her mistress a small silken bag that contained more crystals. Yuko let them spill out on the table before her, in a seemingly random pattern.

"The water is not tainted, Doumeki-san. Even if it were, only an evil spirit could influence the path that your future may take."

As soon as the final drop hit the water in the dish, smoke rose around his hand, curling up his wrist. It quietly caressed the bright butterflies on his coat before it snaked further up his arm, seemingly intent on further exploration. Yuko lifted a crystal in tapered fingers to toss in the dish, causing a ripple to disturb the water and the smoke curling up his body. The smoke shuddered. It shuddered, just as plainly as a human would.

"Your personal time of change will end when you discover what you are unknowingly seeking."

"Seeking? I'm perfectly happy, thank you."

Yuko didn't hear him, and tossed another crystal into the dish. The smoke recoiled, as if pulled away, and slid back down into the water. The woman's disposition returned somewhat to normal, and she fixed her eyes on his.

"Your destiny is intertwined with mine, Doumeki-san, and I can see no further."

"And if I said I don't believe in destiny?"

His query was short and laced with sarcasm.

"You wouldn't be such a traditionalist, if you did not. And even if you did say it, I wouldn't believe you."

Doumeki's earlier sarcasm was reflected in Yuko's smile. Moro handed him a towel, giving him another one of her smiles. It seemed real, when she closed her eyes, and Doumeki hestitantly returned it. As he dried his hand, he felt a question burning up inside his throat. This woman, she intrigued him. Beyond the mild curiousity that one human felt for another, she held fast to his interest. Not physically, though she was beautiful, and he had to say that he was attracted to her. But something in the way she spoke, and acted, had captured him, and these questions must be answered.

"I must ask, Ichihara-san. How is it that one such as yourself should come across such a myriad of spirits to be in your employ?"

Yuuko laughed, obnoxious and loud as Maru and Moro cleared the table. Almost seductively, she drew one of her long fingers down the side of her face, from the back of her jaw to her chin. Doumeki's eyes followed the movement, and then focused on her face.

"So it seems that even a person distant as you are, Doumeki-san, can be captured by my overwhelming beauty, and the sense of mystery that surrounds me. There are some things that go back even further than I wish to reveal...however, I can tell you how Rikuou-san came to be in my employ. The other things, you will have to ask the spirits themselves."

-…-

(1) Gaijin: A word referring to an outsider, usually denoting a European foreigner.

(2) Zashiki-warashi: Again, something that I forgot last chapter. Zashiki-warashi are house-dwelling spirits who bring good fortune and happiness to the inhabitants of that house. However, should the family try to pay it tribute of any kind, the spirit will become incredibly offended and leave the house immediately. Should this happen, the family will come into an extreme case of bad luck. (Thus, Watanuki's offering of a White Day gift should have offended the zashiki warashi he encountered, had it been a normal situation.) Also, even though she had no official name in the manga, I'll call her Teruko, so that I don't have to use the 'she' pronoun over and over again.

(3) Ame-warashi: A rain maker. According to the XXX-holic manga, not so low in rank as a water fairy or water sprite, and in CLAMP's characterization, very concerned about the pure essences of the world. Watanuki's temperment seemed similar to that of the ame-warashi in the manga, thus the reason I chose him to replace her. (Another backstory is in the works, and I'll post it as soon as I get it finished.

(4) Reading fortunes on the surface of water: I have no idea how these actually work Originally, I heard of such fortune-telling through the Cardcaptor Sakura movie, a veeeeeery long time ago. Yuko also allows Watanuki to do a divination called a "kyocho" with a mirror on a sunny and rainy day. The divinations she has done for/with Watanuki usually appear to have something to do with water. So, allow me a little creative freedom on this divination. If anyone can give me a link or an explanation as to how they actually work, let me know in a review! It would be greatly appreciated.

(5) I know that in the actual manga, Doumeki has absolutely reason to enter Yuko's shop, and therefore cannot see it or set foot inside. Since this fic is in an alternate universe, I'm giving Doumeki a reason to enter.


End file.
